


Follow the Path of Your Heart

by decasquid



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andrew Minyard Has Feelings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everyone Needs Therapy, Hurt Neil Josten, M/M, Post-Canon, Wholesome Twinyards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28704822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decasquid/pseuds/decasquid
Summary: The only thing Neil hears is his blood pumping in his ears and his shoes slapping against the pavement. His breath is coming out in short ragged bursts, half from the pace he is running and half from the anxiety still spiking in his veins. There are still too many traces of Palmetto orange for him to take a rest.--It’s like watching a plane crash, slowly tipping lower and lower before it inevitably hits the ground.Neil runs but he doesn't want to.Andrew thinks it's his fault.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 14
Kudos: 253





	1. Follow the Path of Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> What's a better way to avoid responsibilities than to write angsty shit??
> 
> TW: blood, swearing, brief mentions of drugs/overdosing (no one gets drugged, but mentions of it!), mentions of death - ish, past trauma is mentioned in passing.  
> Everything turns out fine in the end because they don't need more trauma.
> 
> And I care about Neil Josten dammit.

The only thing Neil hears is his blood pumping in his ears and his shoes slapping against the pavement. His breath is coming out in short ragged bursts, half from the pace he is running and half from the anxiety still spiking in his veins. There are still too many traces of Palmetto orange for him to take a rest.

The air is chilled now that the sun has set, this November being colder than the last. It’s a bad time to be running with no plans, Neil knows it, but he doesn’t have a choice.

He halts briefly at an intersection for the interstate watching the flow of traffic as he waits for the light. He’ll have a better chance hitchhiking if he goes west. 

He’ll say he’s trying to get home for an early holiday break and he blew all of his money on beer at school and he can’t afford a bus ticket. It leaves a lot of words unspoken about the scars, still raised and pink on Neil’s face, and the paranoid dart to his eyes. 

Maybe he’ll say he’s running from his abusive parents and play a sympathy card.

But as the hour passes, his thumb is cold and numb from holding up as he walks. He isn’t as lucky as he’s been before. A few cars have slowed down, but as soon as they get a glimpse at Neil’s face they keep driving to avoid trouble. 

He feels the spark of eyes prickling his skin.

Shit.

He spins around to make sure no one is following him before he spins back around. Neil can almost see the heads of drivers in the cars passing rubbernecking over to look at him. 

Within a few steps, he hurdles the side barrier down the steep grassy incline to the underpass, and a small row of local shops and warehouses. He tries to blend into the handful of groups walking around to the local bars. 

A chill rips up his spine as he shivers. He’s wearing a thin long sleeve shirt and shorts. He needs to layer up before he gets colder. 

He finds an alley off the main street and ducks inside. He pushes his way through trash bags before he lets himself breath. He has cover from the road, but if someone is walking they will see him.

He’ll only be a moment.

He drops his duffle bag on the ground trying to avoid the worst of the rotten food. It blends in among the garbage. It’s worn, dirty, and tattered with the seams stretched too far that they started to fray on the ends. He didn’t dare take the new one Matt had gifted to him at the end of last year when they were moving out. It didn’t seem right to take it from him, not after what he did. 

Matt. 

Neil pauses, feeling his own resolve waiver thinking of Matt and the rest of the foxes. He flips through their faces how he likes to remember them, all smiling with joy from winning a game or laughing from a joke someone made. His family.

But they all twist and deform into the faces of shock and horror. 

No.

Neil shuts the memory violently. He doesn’t want to remember them like that. 

He opens his bag to sift through all of his old nondescript threadbare clothes that he had hastily packed inside. Each item sparking memories of being nameless and nothing, on the run from his father and his people. Once a rabbit always a rabbit.

Neil pulls on a hoodie and switches his shorts for jeans. He starts to reach into the lining of his bag before he spots it. The binder is almost hidden among the bottom of the bag. 

His impulse is to open it and go through the pages to make sure everything is still there, but he doesn’t think he can stand the sight of the pictures of Kevin Day he pasted inside years ago.

Neil wonders what Kevin thinks about him now. Maybe his opinion hasn’t changed. He knew Neil before. He knew what Neil was capable of. Maybe it wasn’t a change in his opinion but a reminder.

It's the cold truth that no matter what disguise that Neil paints on his face, he will always be Nathaniel Wesninski underneath. But for now, he’ll hold on to Neil as long as he can.

He pushes down into the lining of the bag and finds a switchblade he stashed there years ago. He holds it in his palm looking at the matte black case before flicking the blade open. The knife doesn’t hold memories of his father anymore, his father thought switchblades were childish and impractical, but reminds Neil of Andrew.

_ Get the fuck out of here. _

Neil winces at the memory of Andrew’s voice. 

Neil feels the sick pit in his stomach twist. He broke Andrew’s trust not once, but twice. He hurt the people Andrew protects with his life and then Neil ran even after he promised to stay. He knows he can’t fix it with words and apologizing. His actions speak louder than his promises.

No one is looking for him this time. He hurt the only people that would have looked for him, if Andrew would even let them. He could take time, find somewhere to squat for a while before he moved on, but he doesn’t think his resolve to run will hold.

He came to Palmetto exhausted from running, and it hasn’t changed. He doesn’t want to run. He wants to go back to his dorm with a string of promises and apologies. But his foxes deserve better than him.

He sucks in a breath as he closes the knife and shoves it into his hoodie pocket before zipping up the bag and his memories of Palmetto with it.

He sits for another minute, resting his already aching legs. He pulls the hood just a bit further over his ears to keep them warm. He closes his eyes for a moment, not to sleep, but to rest. 

A moment passes and Neil hears voices coming from the street. Low, possibly three men at least, walking his direction. Neil opens his eyes trying not to move to see the top of the man’s dark hair.

“It’s fucked up, that’s what it is.” The voice belongs to one of the trio who steps into the alley next to the dumpster mostly hiding Neil. He smells the strong smell of piss and grimaces wrinkling his nose.

He keeps his breaths shallow. Maybe they didn’t notice him or didn’t care to. He thinks he hears them leave, before the man slams his hand on the dumpster causing Neil to jolt back.

“What’s a pretty face like yours doing at the end of a shitty alley?” The man’s face is sharp, his mouth grinning like a shark. It isn’t a murderous grin, Neil’s seen it plenty of times to know the difference, but not one that was going to let him leave easily.

The man steps closer before he snorts, “Well, you’re not so pretty anymore are you? Someone got a hold of you already.”

“I don’t want any trouble.” Neil is already standing, looking at the other two blocking the end of the alley. It doesn’t look like they have any weapons, but a knife can be hidden easier than a gun. 

The man cocks his head to the side, the grin not faltering. “They’ll be no trouble, kid. Not if you can follow simple directions, ok? You have money, right? A big bag like that says you have to have money stuffed in there.”

“I don’t have any.” Neil grinds his teeth. It is a partial truth. He doesn’t have any bills on him but the documents for the wire transfers and bonds tucked away in the pages that told a different story. “I spent it all.” 

“How about that?” The man leans back, looking at the other two, “Kid says he spent all of the money he had.” He rolls his face back at Neil, “Well, now I have to check. I have to keep you honest. Pick the easy way, empty your bag and your pockets.”

Neil’s fist tightens around the bag’s strap but he doesn’t move.

“The hard way it is.” The man lunges forward trying to grab him. Neil’s hand flys out of his pocket, brandishing the knife in front of him. He slashes the air twice at the man’s chest. It isn’t deep enough to bleed, but enough to cause him to take a step back and give Neil the space he needs to dart past him. 

Neil dodges past the other two men easily using his speed as his greatest defense. 

He didn’t see the fourth man, standing around the corner. He is taller, broader, and quiet with a gun holster at his side. He sees Neil coming and grabs his shoulder to quickly slam him against the brick wall before pinning his wrist with the knife above his head. 

“Caught your runner, boss.” The man deadpans, squeezing Neil’s wrist to make him drop the knife. 

Neil squirms trying to break out of the man’s grip before he feels the cold steel press into his side. He freezes letting the knife fall onto the ground beneath him. 

“Well now I’m more curious.” The boss steps forward, his hands still in his pockets. “What’s in the bag?” He nods at the other two men who grab the bag easily out of Neil’s fingers. 

They dump the bag, kicking through the clothes to see the binder and a few quarters spread out on the ground. The boss squats down and flips through the binder before he kicks it closed. 

“Why’d you make that so hard, kid?” He looks up at Neil, the shark smile never waning. “Were you afraid I’d see your little gay scrapbook?” He steps his boot on the spine of the binder, cracking it easily under his feet.

The other two men snicker like hyenas pacing back and forth as they kick his clothes.

“Eh.” The boss shrugs, holding up his hand like Neil was actually going to answer his question. “I don’t think I care. The kid’s worthless. Teach him a lesson and throw him where he belongs.”

The three men leave the alley, walking down the street cackling between them. The man holding the gun into Neil’s side retracts, and in a blink, a fist connects with Neil’s face. His head snaps back slamming into the brick wall behind him. He feels the break in his nose and the immediate gush of blood to follow. 

He crumples to the ground no longer being held up. He blinks fighting to stay conscious as he sees the fuzzy redness surround his vision. 

The man picks up the knife from Neil’s hand easily snorting to himself, “I’ll take this as my parting gift.” He kicks Neil in the chest a few times, watching as Neil coughs blood out of his mouth trying to breath before he finally walks away. 

Neil lays there for a second, trying to stay conscious before he immediately scrambles up. He stuffs everything back into his bag with shaky hands and wet coughing breaths, not taking time to survey the damage to his stuff. He gags on the blood pouring down his throat and spits onto the ground.

He is unstable as he walks, keeping his head down so he doesn’t choke. His head is pounding and if he moves his eyes too quickly all he can see is stars. There’s a ringing in his ears that can only mean that he has some form of a concussion. His ribs are definitely bruised but he doesn’t think any are broken.

He loses track of time between the alley and where he is now. He has been weaving through blocks attempting to keep track of the blocks he’s walking so he can go back to the main road. 

His nose has stopped bleeding but there is blood streaked down his face and onto the front of his hoodie. His hands are covered in blood now from the unhelpful bouts of pinching his nostrils.

Hitchhiking is out of the question now, not that it even was an option before. 

Neil stumbles a bit barely catching himself onto the fence of a suburban home. His head is throbbing and he can barely see with the way the world pitches and twists around him. He needs to find someplace to rest, at least for a few hours until his headache eases.

He calms his breaths and focuses on counting to twenty. That’s when he sees it: a bicycle. It's leaning against a post outside of a house a few houses up without a chain. He can see someone just inside the doorway talking to someone else in the house. 

This is the only chance he will get. He takes a deep breath and pushes off of the fence quickly. He grabs the handlebars of the bike, swinging his leg over, and slams down on the pedals. It’s a bit rocky at first but he evens out his balance and is two blocks away before he hears yelling behind him.

The cold air rushing past his face feels nice on the growing heat of his nose and the pressure in his head. The rush of the air past his ears drowns out the sound of ringing. He bikes quickly back to the highway to the bike trail he noticed along the way. 

It’s a straight shot, allowing Neil to keep his head straight and even close his eyes for a few moments as he pedals. It starts to rain a bit while he bikes, the cold chill soaking through his hoodie but not enough to clean the blood off of his face.

He rides until he starts to see dawn breaking. The adrenaline from his paranoia and anxiety is waning. For once he is too tired to panic.

Neil can’t decide if his head is pounding because of the lack of sleep, the dehydration, the skipped meals for the last few days, or the concussion he diagnosed himself with. It doesn’t matter the cause, not really. But it's making it hard to breath and keep his legs moving in a constant pattern.

He squints his eyes forward forcing his cotton brain to focus on the trail and moving forward. His front tire hits a larger bump in the trail causing Neil to look down. He feels a rush of nausea as his head wobbles violently back and forth not able to focus on the ground anymore. His vision goes dark as he feels the bike slide out from under him.

He tries to catch himself on his palms as he falls scraping the already bloodied skin. His knees follow the motion as he slides on the ground, tearing holes in his pants as the bike twists in his feet and slams into his back. 

For a second, as Neil lays on the ground in the cold rain, he forgets. 

He forgets where he is or what time it is. He forgets about being Neil Josten. He forgets about having been Nathaniel Wesninski.

Everything slows down to sensations.

He knows he’s in pain. It’s something he’s used to coming in short bursts or endless streams. This pain is localized. His head, his palms, his knees, and the ache stretching from his toes to his lower back in near constant pulses.

He’s cold. The rain falling on his back is cold causing a chilling numbness in his back and arms. He can barely feel the tip of his fingers but he knows they are still there.

His brain feels like it’s floating, sitting right above his body looking down at his crumpled form.  _ Well, Neil,  _ he imagines addressing himself,  _ Look at what you got yourself into this time. _

He almost imagines hands pulling him up and patting his cheeks. It’s not a mirror of Neil anymore, no, it’s blond and hazel and calloused hands and a bored expression.  _ Look at what you got yourself into this time. _ He hears again but it’s Andrew’s voice.

_ I know. _ Neil mentally responds,  _ I’m a mess. _

His body snaps into place feeling as the ground moves underneath him lurching his body left and right. South Carolina doesn’t have earthquakes, his brain regurgitates.

He gags out a mixture of bile and blood onto the ground, coughing as he pushes himself on his side to make sure he doesn’t choke.

Everything comes in a wave of panic thoughts. If he lays here, he’s going to die. He is going to choke on his vomit. He is going to be nameless, dead under a stolen bike. 

No.

He can’t die like this. 

He’s survived so much.

His brain throws memories at him. His mother, his father, Riko, Lola, all images of the pain they’ve inflicted on him. He’s outlived all of them.

Dying by his own mistake feels cheap.

It’s enough to push himself into a seated position and untangle his legs from the bike. He hoists himself up using the bike to guide him forward while he limps along, trying to get his legs to function properly. 

He’s been through worse. He’s fine.

His name is Neil Josten. He used to go to Palmetto before he made a mistake. One fucking mistake. He used to be a starting striker until he ran. Ran from his family. Ran from his foxes.

He feels the ache in his chest to go back. Back to Palmetto and the Foxhole Court. Back to the Fox Tower and his dorm room. He wants to go back to the foxes.

Back to Andrew.

But he can’t. 

He can’t think about it. Not now.

Right now he needs to survive the next hour, then the next, and then plan for what he’s going to do.

So he counts his steps.

One. Two. Three. He’s sweating despite his body shivering. He feels the pull of his muscles as he walks. He’s blown out his legs before so he knows how to deal with this pain.

Thirty-three. Thirty-four. Thirty-five. He barely notices that he hits the end of the trail until his toes hit into the edge of the sidewalk. 

It looks like something like a housing development to the left and a sign that the bike trail continues down the street to the right. 

He needs to find a gas station. 

He needs to ask where he is and what day it is. He needs water, and some food. He needs directions and to wash the blood off of his face.

Left it is.

Neil can barely drag the bike into the brush next to the bike trail, intent to come back to it once he has a plan. He spits some dried blood out of his mouth and starts limping forward. 

He walks slowly twisting through the block of houses and tries to keep his brain occupied to keep the darkness from taking over his vision. 

One bush in the shape of a lion.

Four houses with red doors all in a row. 

Three blue cars.

Somewhere, his brain shifts to thinking about hazel, and blond. He thinks about Andrew.

They never would have had a house like the ones around them, not that they would have bought a house at all. Neither of them would have felt comfortable with that much space for monsters to hide in the darkness. 

Maybe a house like the one in Columbia, Neil thinks, it serves its purpose.

That’s when his brain finally clicks into place.

His eyes slowly take in the houses and the street signs. 

He can’t laugh. 

Neil can feel the hysterics bubbling violently inside of him. If he starts laughing, he won’t be able to stop and he will fully descend into madness. His father’s smile threatens on his lips as he takes another few steps. 

Out of all the places in the world he could end up, he ends up here. 

He’s in Columbia.

If he walks another block, he’ll be at the house. 

The house he’s run from once. The house that is a safe haven from Eden’s. The house he spent the summer with Andrew tangled in their bed sheets. 

No. This isn’t real. He’s hallucinating, or dreaming, or dead. Any of those, but this can’t be real. He couldn’t end up here, in Columbia by accident. 

But the tip of a knife pressing into his back feels real. 

He didn’t hear footsteps, though the ringing in his ears is loud enough that he can’t hear much of anything.

“Don’t move.” That voice. The sound of it makes Neil’s knees weak and his head vibrate to its frequency. Maybe he is dying, Neil concludes, for him to imagine Andrew’s voice so clearly. 

But it can’t be Andrew.

Andrew would have killed him for coming back. Or for running in the first place. 

“I didn’t mean to.” Neil tries to cough down a laugh before it sparks a coughing spell that has him spitting dried blood on the sidewalk. 

Neil lets out a bubble of laughter, sharp and pointed, as he tries to drag a hand up to his mouth to stop his father’s smile. But he misses. The hang swings down to Neil’s side barely having moved at all. 

Maybe he isn’t there. Maybe he’s in his father’s basement, or under Riko’s knife, or against the wall in an alley with his mother nursing a bullet wound.

“But I’m here, I think.” The words slip out of his mouth easily. 

Unless this is all a dream. 

“Or fate.” The words burble out. Maybe Andrew isn’t Andrew, but death, personified, taking Neil into his final resting place. “I guess dying by your hands is better than laying nameless and rotten on the side of the road.” 

Neil closes his eyes, waiting for the knife to pierce him through, but the pressure of the knife is gone. And for a moment, Andrew is too.

“Neil, open your eyes.” Andrew’s voice sounds so clear and firm. He doesn’t want to open his eyes and find himself talking to air.

But he is curious. 

He opens his eyes, keeping them trained on the ground. He sees Andrew’s boots. He feels comforted by just the sight of their black material.

“Look at me.”

Neil keeps his eyes on the ground. “I can’t. If I do, you’ll disappear.”

Neil’s imagination can only stretch so far. He can recreate Andrew’s boots in perfect detail, even the cuffs on his jeans because the legs of his pants were always too long. But he isn’t good enough to recreate every minute expression on Andrew’s face.

Andrew’s hands hesitate before they reach out and grab the neck of Neil’s sweatshirt. 

“No, I-” Neil looks at Andrew’s knuckles and gets lost staring at the scars spidering down before they dart under Andrew’s armbands and the other scars that were hidden there. He fixates on them looking at them like they hold the secrets of the world. 

“I love your hands.” Neil whispers watching the fingers tighten in the material by his hood. He feels the pull of his hoodie forward and loses the balance he’s barely had. He follows the tug, falling onto his already bloody knees.

“Abram.” He hears Andrew’s voice say his name, the name his mother used when she couldn’t bear to call him anything related to his father. “Look at me.” 

It doesn’t matter now, Neil decides, if Andrew is a hallucination or not. So he looks up.

Oh.

His brain has conjured up an exact replica of Andrew’s face. All of the emotions swirling through the cracks in Andrew’s self control, the fire in his eyes, and the firm set of his lips before he bears his teeth.

Neil can barely stop himself before the words fall out of his mouth, “I’m sorry.”

Andrew’s hand shoots back forming a fist. Neil flinches. He doesn’t mean to but he can’t stop it. A different look, flashes across his face as he lowers his shaking fist. “I hate you.” Andrew growls, gripping the fabric in his hand tighter. 

“I know.” Neil whispers.

The emotions run on Andrew’s face again. Neil can barely keep up with them. He’s so tired. His vision bubbling almost like he is sliding underwater covering Andrew’s face with a black fog before it clears just for a moment.

“No. No. I’m not ready yet.” He mumbles watching Andrew’s body still. Neil tries to reach him, even just the sides of his jacket, but his arms barely lift where they are dangling to his sides.

“Neil.” Andrew is shaking him. Or maybe that is Neil’s body shaking instead. He sees Andrew’s mouth moving but he can’t figure out what he’s saying.

“I just wanted to see you before I died.” The words fall out of his mouth, slipping past the wall he had built so long ago. It is a truth that he never dared to exchange. “I thought I could let you go.”

“You’re not going to die.” Andrew’s voice sounds like it’s underwater, barely burbling past the ringing in Neil’s ears. 

“I don’t think I have a choice anymore.” Neil lets a burble of laughter slip out of his mouth. He can’t tell if Andrew is saying anything else. He feels a hand on the back of his neck trying to get his attention, but Neil can’t focus on it. 

A dull laugh pierces the back of Neil’s mind. It’s unmistakable. It’s his father’s. Neil feels a matching smile spread across his lips.

“You’re going to have to kill me before I turn into him.” Neil feels his words slurring as he starts to sway forward following Andrew’s arm. He feels Andrew’s arm grab at his shoulders as he sinks to the ground. Neil’s mouth slips open just slightly as the word falls out of his mouth, “Please.”

He thinks he can feel Andrew’s hands on his shoulders shaking him with burbles of consciousness filtering through the ringing in his ears that sounds like his name as he drifts under.

“His pulse is fine. I checked it twice.” Neil hears a voice standing over him, it sounds familiar, but he can’t place it. “I’d say at least a concussion from the bruising on the back of his head. He’s cold, but not near hypothermia. He’s exhausted and dehydrated. His shoes look like shit and he smells like it. I bet he walked most of the way.” 

“The math doesn’t work out, he couldn’t have walked here, it would have taken days to cover that distance.” That’s Kevin’s voice, Neil recognizes.

There’s a low voice further away that Neil can’t make out what is said.

“I can’t tell if he took something.” It is Aaron’s voice, Neil finally realizes, slightly hoarse but it’s him.

Neil flutters his eyes open to see Kevin in his line of view with his back against the door and his arms crossed. Andrew is on the opposite side, no doubt the source of the voice he couldn’t hear.

Aaron is the closest to Neil with a stethoscope around his shoulders. Neil’s eyes stare at the bruises deep and purple around Aaron’s neck in the shape of hands. Neil’s hands. 

He inhales a sharp breath causing the three men to look his way. 

“Out.” Andrew hisses pushing off from the wall. 

Without a word, Kevin and Aaron leave the room pulling the door shut. Neil barely hears Nicky’s voice asking, “Is he ok?” before it is cut off.

“Drink.” Andrew points at the cup on the nightstand next to Neil. “It’s water.”

Neil nods, reaching a shaky hand out to it. He feels the water slide down his throat before hitting the emptiness of his stomach. He feels lightheaded for a moment because it starts to ease. He sips on the rest of the water under Andrew’s eyes before he finishes the glass. 

“What did you take?” Andrew crosses his arms. 

Neil isn’t following. 

“Drugs.”

“I didn’t-” He clears his throat feeling rough and sore, “I didn’t take anything.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Andrew's face is clouded but whatever he sees on Neil’s face makes him change his question, “Did someone drug you? Tell me the truth.” 

“I’m not lying.” Neil takes a breath before exhaling slowly. “No.” He clears his throat again, “No one drugged me.”

Andrew looks like he’s trying to beat the truth out of the air as each second passes before he grunts out, “Who broke your nose?”

“A couple guys looking for money about three or four hours outside of Palmetto.” Neil feels the pressure in the back of his head spike, “The mild concussion is from them too.”

“Severe concussion.” Andrew corrects him as his expression darkens. “Who did you hitch a ride with?”

“No one.” Neil answers watching at Andrew’s shoulders flex, urging him to continue. “I stole a bike. I stashed it into some brush at the end of the trail not far from here. At least I think I did.” 

Andrew’s face darkens as he watches Neil. Neil can’t meet his eyes and looks down at his bloody knees. “I’ll leave.” Neil shifts to stand up but he freezes, his legs are too numb to move.

“Shut up.” Andrew growls at him, “Where were you going?”

“West.” Neil shrugs. “I didn’t mean to come here.” His mouth feels dry again and he glances at the empty water cup. He finally looks back at Andrew and the darkness in his eyes. He owes Andrew an explanation, a truth in exchange for his hospitality.

“Everything was too much.” Neil says, looking at the thick scabs on his palm and the blood caked under his fingertips. “I’m not a good captain. I can’t teach the freshmen shit. I am failing three of my classes. I keep fucking up at practice.”

“You weren’t sleeping.” Andrew adds, furthering Neil’s explanation. “And you were skipping meals.”

“There wasn’t time.” Andrew didn’t take his eyes away, boring holes in Neil’s excuses as they fizzled away, “I wasn’t there on the court anymore. I was in the back seat with Lola. I thought it was her.”

“But it was Aaron.” Andrew says, evenly and slow. 

Neil nods.

The memory is clearer now. 

Lola in front of him and Neil’s only chance for freedom is to wrap his hands around her throat Then a pressure of the back end of a knife pressed to the front of his throat and Andrew’s hand on the back of his neck. Then Aaron beneath him, choking for air with bruises already forming. The horrified look on his teammate’s faces, each one burning into his mind. 

_ Get the fuck out of here. _

“I knew what I looked like.” Neil stares at the blood on his fingertips. It isn’t Aaron’s but it could have been. “I could feel his smile.” 

His bags were packed on autopilot. His phone, keys, and armbands on Andrew’s bed as a goodbye.

“I can’t stay.” Neil looks at the door, “They won’t want me around, not after what I did. I broke their trust. I can’t forgive myself for that.” His voice lowers, barely to a whisper, “It’s better if I just disappear.”

“Never say that.” Andrew growls taking a step forward.

Neil opens his mouth to say something before he notices, behind Andrew is his duffel bag. Andrew braces his shoulders noticing Neil’s line of sight before there’s a short knock on the door. They both wait before Nicky’s voice filters through. “Can I come in?”

Andrew moves back to his perch in the corner, making a point to step in front of the bag before Neil says, “Yes.”

Nicky opens the door slowly, hesitating before he comes in. “I just wanted to see how you were doing and bring more water.” He sets the glass down on the nightstand before he takes a deep breath.

Nicky waits for a second, almost like he expects Neil to tell him he is fine. But those two words fall short in his mouth.

Nicky clears his throat for a second, “Neil. Can I hug you? I’ll be gentle.”

Neil nods, “Sure.” 

Nicky’s arms surround Neil’s shoulders for a second. It is gentle and quick, which is unlike Nicky’s normal hugs. From the way he glances in Andrew’s direction, it’s hard to tell how much is his new apprehension towards Neil or from Andrew’s presence. 

“I was so worried about you. We all were.” Nicky chews on the tip of his finger before his eyes seem to fill with tears, “You just took off, and when we saw the dorm room, Andrew knew you were gone. We looked everywhere and I thought we’d lost you again.” Nicky exhales.

“Then Andrew found you looking half dead, again. You weren’t acting like yourself, and I thought,” Nicky trails off looking at Andrew before back at Neil. “You’re not allowed to scare us half to death twice. No more. My heart can’t take it.”

Neil nods which makes Nicky smile just a bit, “I’ll be out of your hair soon.” 

Nicky’s smile falls immediately, “Stop talking like that.” Neil’s eyes widen, he never saw Nicky’s face look so serious before. “You scared us and that’s it. We want you here, ok?”

“I’m sorry.” Neil looks away from him.

Nicky squeezes his shoulder lightly. “You don’t have to apologize, ok? You’re here now, you came back to us. We are your family.” Nicky glances at Andrew before back at Neil, “Drink more water. Maybe take a shower if you’re feeling up to it. We’re ordering Chinese food and Kevin’s buying.” 

Nicky raises his eyebrow, like he expects Neil to object before he smiles and leaves the room. 

Neil drinks the second glass with more haste than the first. He stacks the cups on top of one another feeling a bit better already. He still feels shaky and weak but he is coherent as he can be with a concussion.

Then he catches a whiff of himself. He does smell like shit which adds on another reason why Nicky’s hug was short. Neil looks at his legs and wiggles his toes, swinging them into a sitting position. Andrew steps forward like he is going to stop Neil.

“Shower.” Neil explains looking in Andrew’s direction to make his movements clear. “I think I can make it there.” 

Neil stands slowly feeling a sharp pain from his heel to his lower back but he could hold his own body weight. He takes a step forward slowly, feeling the pain radiate through his legs. 

Andrew doesn’t comment, but he opens the door and waits for Neil to hobble out and across the hall into the bathroom. 

“He shouldn’t be-” Aaron’s voice yells from the other end of the hallway but stops short. Neil didn’t pause to see what rude gesture that Andrew had given his brother. 

Neil braces himself on the sink causing him to look at himself in the mirror.

He has a deep purple bruise wide on his face starting from the bridge of his nose and spreading under both eyes to join the dark circles there. His face looks hollow with additional shadows on his cheekbones. His eyes are bloodshot making the blue of his eyes looking faded. The blood from his nose looks like it was wiped but traces are still there stretching down his face meeting the neck of his hoodie then down the front in long stripes. 

No wonder Andrew thought he was drugged, he looks like it.

Andrew slides back into the bathroom watching Neil attempt to try to lift his arms to take off his shirt. “Yes or no?” He pauses, “Only to help you.”

“Yes.” Neil responds.

It reminds Neil of after Baltimore. Andrew clinically helped Neil undress his layers slowly. Andrew doesn’t blink and slowly prods Neil with a couple fingertips to direct him into the bath filled with warm water. 

Andrew pushes his sleeves up as he starts washing Neil’s hair carefully not to touch the soft spot on the back of his head. It’s quiet as Andrew works, the water slowly warming Neil. He didn’t realize how cold he was until he started to feel the numbness fade in his fingertips.

Neil tries to wash the blood out from his fingers but Andrew flicks him with water until he gives up and lets Andrew do it. 

“Close your eyes.” Andrew grunts as he starts cleaning the blood off of his face.

Neil obliges, fighting not to fall asleep once his eyes are closed. 

It isn’t until Andrew tells Neil he can open his eyes, that Neil notices that Andrew isn’t wearing his arm bands. Andrew could have taken them off so they didn’t get wet, or Renee could have taken them. Neil’s not sure, and doesn’t want to ask.

After Neil is sufficiently clean, Andrew stops fussing and lets Neil soak in the warm water.

Neil feels better and more grounded, even though his thoughts are still a bit scattered and cloudy. “I thought you wanted me gone.” Neil barely whispers.

“No.” Andrew hesitates like he was going to say something else but he doesn’t. He stands up and leaves the bathroom, holding his hand up for Neil to stay. 

He does stay, watching the water bob back and forth before he sighs. He rests his head on the tile and closes his eyes. He must have fallen asleep, just for a second, but long enough for Andrew to come back into the bathroom without Neil noticing.

“Neil.” Andrew’s voice is concerned, but firm. 

“I’m here.” Neil says sucking in a breath which causes him to cough, “Fell asleep, I think.” 

Andrew doesn’t comment and resumes his clinical approach.

He ushers Neil out of the bathtub, drying him off quickly before helping him into clothes. Neil recognizes the clothes that he left over the summer except for the sweatshirt. It’s one of Andrew’s black sweatshirts with soft fleece on the inside and the faint smell of cigarettes. 

“Thanks.” Neil says pulling the sleeves down over his fingertips, shaking a chill from his body. Andrew nods before turning and opening the bathroom door.

Aaron is standing on the other side with his hand raised ready to knock. 

“Foods here.” He mumbles stepping to the side. The twins share a wordless conversation before Andrew moves past Aaron down the hall.

Aaron takes a step forward and stands for a second staring at Neil blocking the door. Neil expects Aaron to yell or punch him. Neil deserves at least that much. But Aaron doesn’t move any closer. 

He points a finger at Neil’s chest and hisses, “You don’t get to do that twice.”

Neil blinks. What? 

“You don’t get it, do you?” Aaron takes another step forward so his index finger is pressed into the front of Neil’s chest. “You disappeared. Andrew spent all night looking for you. He called every hospital, bus station, airport, looking for you under names I’ve never even heard of. He couldn’t find you. He kept saying it was his fault you ran. I thought he was going to…” 

Aaron stops letting out a long hot breath before he jabs Neil’s chest again. “Then you appear, half fucking dead. We thought you were overdosing with the shit you were babbling. Andrew thought you were fucking dying in his arms. He would barely let me check your fucking pulse.”

“You,” Aaron jabs into this chest after each word, “don’t get to do that twice.” 

Neil looks away from Aaron to stare at the base of the sink. “I hurt you.” 

“You don’t get to make this about me.” Aaron grabs the front of the hoodie. “I don’t want your pity or your apology. I want you to get fucking help and take care of yourself so it doesn’t fucking happen again.” He lets go of the hoodie before he steps back and sneers. “You are not worth a third time.” 

He exhales before he pivots out of the bathroom. 

Neil looks after him taking in his words slowly. Andrew doesn’t care, why would he go through all the trouble to call after him and look for him. Neil blinks trying to get the thoughts to make sense, but they keep coming up short. 

He exhales slowly, feeling a new headache forming. He can’t think with a concussion, he’ll have to think about it later. He hobbles slowly out of the bathroom feeling the sharp spikes up the back of his legs towards the kitchen table. 

He sits across from Kevin as Nicky flitters back and forth bringing plates and forks from the kitchen. Nicky sets a cup of water in front of him with a smile before he is back off in the kitchen. Neil looks to see Andrew smoking outside the patio doors and Aaron is nowhere to be seen. 

Kevin clears his throat, causing Neil to look up at him. “Two weeks.” Kevin leans back in his chair, mimicking a pose that Wymack uses often. “No arguments. You’ll miss two games but you’ll be back before the winter playoffs. Jack is making progress so he can hold the line while you’re out.”

Neil looks at the table cloth for a moment, tracing the pattern with his eyes. “He can take it. I’m not staying.”

Kevin’s face twists with anger as he stands up quick enough for the chair to squeak backwards. Neil flinches. His brain is having a hard time keeping tabs on the room as Kevin abruptly stops in his tracks. Neil can’t be sure if it is because he flinched or because Andrew walked back in the room.

“We’re not done talking about this.” Kevin hisses as he sits down again. 

Aaron appears at the table a minute later, not commenting on the energy in the room. 

“Hope everyone is ready to feast!” Nicky says as he brings two large bags of Chinese food into the room. It’s enough to feed the whole team and then some, not just five people.

Neil should be hungry but all it did was make him nauseous. He sips on his water slowly, trying to ease his stomach while Nicky starts to divide the containers onto plates. 

“Ok, Neil, what do you want the most of?” Nicky asks, twirling chopsticks in his fingers. 

“I’m not hungry.” Neil shrugs.

Nicky’s eyes narrow before shooting a glance to Andrew and Aaron who look at each other. The three of them share a silent conversation before Nicky grabs a different container. 

“Rice!” Nicky says, determination filling his voice. “It’s easy on the stomach to fight off some of the nausea from the concussion. You need something other than water on your stomach or you’ll be sick. Besides they’ll be leftovers when you’re hungry later, right Kevin?”

Kevin waves his hand in response with noodles hanging out from his mouth. 

Nicky puts some white rice onto Neil’s plate and hands him a fork, “After dinner, I’ll make you some hot tea, well, Andrew might be better at making it then I would. But I know we have the kind you like in the cabinet.”

Neil nods at Nicky allowing a half smile to flash on his face for appreciation. Nicky beams at him before he descends into a tale about his “experience with the delivery driver”. Neil listens as it descends into a conversation about delivery drivers and the worst ones they’ve experienced.

Neil pushes the rice around on his plate. 

He appreciates Nicky. 

He took care of Andrew and Aaron when they were at their worst, and even Kevin, if Neil is being honest. He knows Nicky is looking out for him in his own way. He is making sure Neil eats something and drinks water, two things that he can help Neil with right now without being overbearing. 

Nicky usually would bring Neil a snack when they were studying together, and always sliding his water bottle closer to him as a reminder to drink it. Nicky is more perceptive than Neil gives him credit for. 

He eats a few forkfuls of rice on his plate to push through the nausea and stomach cramps from not eating enough recently. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough. Each forkful seems to lift Nicky’s mood during the conversation before Neil finishes his plate.

“Ok.” Nicky exhales slurping the last noodle off of his plate, “It’s Kevin’s turn to put away the leftovers. Ha.” He snorts to himself before he looks over at Neil, “Are you up for a movie or would you like to turn in early instead?” His smile falters for a bit as he glances over at Aaron, “He can sleep, right?”

Aaron nods leaning back in his chair to scrape the leftover rice into his mouth. “Someone should check on him every few hours but he can sleep. We would have seen the signs of a brain bleed by now.” 

“I’ll turn in.” Neil nods, drinking the last of the water in his glass. “Thank you Nicky.”

Nicky’s smile turns a bit sad before he nods perking it back up, “I’ll have Andrew bring you the tea, go lay down. Get some rest.” He waves his hands at Neil for him to leave. Neil nods and hobbles back to the bedroom. 

He pauses looking over at the corner of the room at the duffel bag still sitting on the floor, pushed back in the corner. He could take it, climb out the window in the bedroom, and be in the wind within hours.

But his legs lock. He can’t move. He looks at the bed then back at the bag then back at the bed. He won’t make it far with the rainy weather, his concussion, and a broken nose. He can’t run, his body is exhausted. 

He’s exhausted from running.

He’ll rest for a moment. Then he’ll leave. 

He takes a step closer to the bed before he stops again. Should he sleep in Andrew’s bedroom? Maybe he would be better off sleeping on the couch or the floor by his bag. Maybe it would be easier if he asked them to drive him somewhere else, he’ll sleep in a motel, somewhere he’s not in the way.

Neil turns to leave when he sees Andrew standing there holding the mug of tea in his hands. 

Andrew prods Neil gently with the tip of his finger back around and towards the bed and a near silent permission. Neil lets Andrew move him into a seated position to elevate his head, before he hands him the tea.

Andrew pauses, looking at Neil for a second before he turns to leave. 

Neil feels his anxiety spiking catching his breath. Neil needs to say something, anything, as a goodbye.

“Andrew.”

Andrew stops in his tracks, his hand still outstretched towards the door.

“I just-” Neil starts and stops feeling a lump growing in his throat stopping the words, “Can you-” he stops again, “I don’t know another way to-” There are so many things he wants to say, but none of them can be put into words that hold any meaning. “I’m-”

“Don’t.” Andrew turns around quickly, a flood of emotions sparking in his eyes as his face twists in anger. Oh. Neil knows enough of Andrew’s emotions to know that his anger isn’t at Neil, Andrew is angry at himself. “Kevin can watch you, or Nicky.” 

“Why?”

Andrew takes a step closer, but he doesn’t raise his voice. It gets lower, darker even, as he speaks through his teeth. “I held a knife to your throat, Neil. Or don’t you remember.”

Neil shrinks back a bit at Andrew’s tone, “I remember.”

“I knew what headspace you were in, you fucking called her name.” Andrew’s fists are clenched and shaking. “I’m no better than they are.” 

“No.” He says a bit too loudly, causing Andrew to blink back a flinch. ”I didn’t run because I was scared of you. I ran to protect you,” He swallows, “from me. I’m afraid I’ll turn into him”

Andrew’s eyes narrow.

“I was choking Aaron.” Neil feels the guilt and shame rise up, catching his breath, “If you didn’t stop me, I would have killed him.” Neil looks down at the mug of tea in his hands. “What if it was someone else? What if it was you?”

“I told you to go.” Andrew snaps. 

“I was gone before I stepped foot on the court.” Neil lets out a shaky breath as they stare at each other. Andrew looks exhausted. Neil can see the dark circles under his eyes and the tight lines of stress holding him together. This, Andrew’s fraying control, is Neil’s fault.

“I’m sorry.” The words slip out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Something sparks in Andrew as he steps forward. “Don’t.” He hisses, “I knew you weren’t fucking sleeping. I knew you weren’t eating. I saw what shit you were going through and I didn’t do anything.” 

“I wouldn’t have let you.” Neil’s eyes never look away from Andrew’s. “I didn’t want to burden anyone with my problems again. And I still ended up doing it.”

“Don’t paint yourself as a martyr.”

“I can say the same about you.”

He watches the anger fizzle behind Andrew’s eyes like he didn’t have enough energy to keep the aggression. Andrew exhales like he’s been holding a breath since Neil ran.

“I didn’t want to go. I’m so tired of running.” Neil looks at the mug of tea in his hands like it holds all of the answers. “I just…” He trails off for a second sorting his thoughts before he finishes finally looking up at Andrew, “I think it’s better if I do.”

“It’s not.” Andrew takes a step forward, his fists clenching to his sides. A flutter of unspoken words and fractions of emotions run across Andrew’s face. It’s small minute expressions that Neil would have missed if he didn’t know Andrew so well. 

“You don’t seem to get it, rabbit.” Andrew says, his voice barely above a whisper as he exhales. “I told you to stop running.” 

The other words he didn't say hang between them.  _ Stop running from the Foxes. Stop running from your family. Stop running from me. _

It’s Andrew’s permission to stay here, with him, even if it’s just for the night.

“I’m stupid, remember.” Neil feels a flutter of warm stretch across his chest. “I need it spelled out for me.”

“Stay.” Andrew’s voice is firm and even.

It’s not the end of the conversation. Neil knows that he will have to face the foxes and their judgement. But right now, looking at Andrew in the low light of the room with rain pouring down outside, it feels like enough.

“Aaron said you looked for me.” Neil asks before the silence could settle over them, taking a sip of the tea in his hands. Andrew knows how to make it just the way Neil likes it.

Andrew doesn’t comment but stares at Neil instead, like he’s trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind Neil’s words. “You covered your tracks well.”

“Years of practice.” Neil smiles softly before he finishes the tea and sets the mug with the other glasses on the nightstand. He feels the smile waver before leaving his face. He looks down at his hands.

Neil watches Andrew’s face watching him. He wants to stay, and right now, that’s his decision. But he knows, if he wakes up from a nightmare there is very little to stop him from running again. 

“Kevin snores.” He sees Andrew’s blinking like he’s trying to follow Neil’s thoughts. “Nicky talks too much and Aaron will smother me in my sleep. That leaves you.”

“Neil.” Andrew warns him.

“I trust you to keep watch.” It’s a truth, even though Andrew didn’t ask for one.

“You shouldn’t.”

“Yes or no?”

Andrew watches him, like he’s expecting Neil to recant, but he doesn’t. He exhales a breath again before he sighs and nods. “I’ll stay and make sure you don’t die in your sleep.”

Neil lets a small smile stretch across his lips as he closes his eyes.

For as tired as he was, Neil barely sleeps.

It’s an interrupted amount of time from checks every few hours to make sure his brain was functioning and from his own nightmares leaving him gasping. It’s not enough sleep but he can at least function. 

He knows Andrew didn’t sleep long either, having been awake each time Neil needed to wake up and through each nightmare. He sat on the floor with his back to the door and his arms crossed, a physical barrier between Neil and the rest of the house.

Neil can’t decide if it was to keep anyone from coming into the room or to keep Neil from waking up and leaving. Either way, Neil didn’t feel like it mattered.

“It’s time to go.” Andrew says, waking Neil up for the last time. 

Andrew packs Neil into the car along with his duffel bag and a few other things they must have brought to Columbia for the night. The bike Neil stole is now chained up in the back of the house along with another bike Neil didn’t know they had.

“Why?” Nicky whines from the back seat. “The sun isn’t even out yet.”

“We’re not missing morning practice after we missed yesterday's practices.” Kevin hisses folding himself into the back seat, “And I have a test in History today.”

“Missing a few practices won’t kill us.” Nicky huffs but doesn’t say anything else as he settles to fall asleep against the window. “We better stop for coffee and bagels. I’m not eating lo mein for breakfast.”

“There isn't even any left.” Aaron huffs, “Kevin ate all of it last night.”

“I paid for it.” Kevin hisses, “I should get to eat it.”

“Shut up.” Andrew growls.

Neil closes his eyes in the passenger seat, reveling in the company of his friends, his family. They did stop for breakfast despite Kevin’s whining about being late to practice. Neil wishes the ride would be longer, but he couldn’t avoid facing his team for too long.

They park in front of the stadium next to Matt’s truck, taking up two spots instead of just one.

Nicky groans as he unfolds himself from the back and starts dragging his feet towards the stadium. Kevin passes him quickly, jogging slightly to the door.

Neil slowly stretches his aching muscles out of the passenger seat with Andrew watching out of the corner of his eye. Foxhole Court, Neil breaths in a sigh as he looks at it, the closest physical location to home he’s ever had. 

He follows Andrew inside slowly. 

The team is sitting around the lounge waiting for them to arrive. Wymack is standing in the middle holding a clipboard in his hands with the upperclassmen spread out on one couch and the other open. The freshmen didn’t dare to sit on it even if it wasn’t occupied.

“I didn’t think your face could look worse.” Allison comments first flipping her hair over her shoulder. The rest of the team looks up at Neil walking in, stepping out from behind Andrew.

“Thank god you’re ok.” Matt exhales with a hand on his chest. “You are, right? No hidden stab wounds or anything? You have all your fingers and toes, right?”

“I’m,” Neil pauses, seeing all of their eyes squint at him in unison, “In one piece.” 

The upperclassmen sigh in relief as the freshmen look at each other whispering to themselves at their entrance. Kevin snaps his fingers at them to be quiet before he looks back at Wymack. 

Dan stands up first as she turns towards Neil. “Neil, we owe you an apology.” 

Neil’s eyes narrow, “For what?”

“We were shitty teammates and worse friends. We all saw the signs. We knew you weren’t taking care of yourself but we didn’t say anything.” Dan clenches her fists, “I just kept pushing, thinking you’d snap out of it”

Neil looks from face to face, Dan’s, Matt’s, Allison’s, Renee’s, and then over to Andrew. “But-” He stops looking down at his hands. “How can you be ok with it?”

“Because it’s not happening again.” Aaron hisses.

“It’s not.” Dan shakes her head, “From or to any of us. We need to do better at checking up on each other as a team, and as friends.” Dan stands up from where she is sitting and smiles at Neil.

“I didn’t think you’d want me around.” Neil says hanging his head to stare intently at the ground.

“Bullshit.” Allison is the first to speak up. “You think you can scare us off? Us? The foxes? Hell, Andrew shanks someone twice a week. And you have a much prettier face when it’s not broken in three pieces.”

“You’re our family, Neil.” Renee smiles, her voice calm and gentle, “No matter what.”

“I mean you scared the shit out of me.” Matt puts a hand on the back of his head, “I don’t think any of us saw you smile like that, and I know what you told us of your dad.” Dan slaps Matt on the shoulder before he holds up both of his hands, “I’m being truthful.”

“You did close a bet for me.” Allison smiles at Neil, “I had fifty bucks on you being the scariest in your relationship, but considering the circumstances,” She waves her hand at Dan’s glare, “I’ll buy you some new shoes for compensation.”

Dan rolls her eyes before she sighs before her eyes look over at Wymack and Abby. 

“See me after this, ok? It looks like Aaron did a pretty good job at setting your nose, but I’d like to take a look anyway.” Abby smiles before she looks at Wymack.

Wymack shifts his weight, “I’m sure Kevin told you, you are taking two weeks out.” He clears his throat, “I don’t want you to think it's a punishment, because it’s not. I want you to take the time to work on your sleep schedule, and fix your grades. I want to see you taking care of yourself one hundred percent of the time, and not just the bare minimum.”

Neil opened his mouth but Wymack held up his hand. “Don’t tell me you can handle coming back now. I know you can, kid. But you have a team. And I’ve been guilty of putting extra stress on you to fix the rest of their problems and not doing enough on my end.”

Neil looked at the team, his family, each of their faces at him. He let out a breath, “I don’t deserve any of you.” Neil swallows before nodding, “Ok.” 

“Ok.” Wymack repeats, “Then, everyone, except for Neil and Andrew, get changed and start warming up. You have a lot of shit to work on today, and I’m tired of seeing your faces. Andrew, you are on Neil duty.”

“Yeah he is.” Nicky snorts.

Wymack pushes ahead ignoring the comment, “Keep each other from doing something stupid for at least twenty four hours and get some sleep.” A few seconds pass as the team snickers at Nicky's comment before Wymack snaps his fingers, “Move.”

Neil watches his team disappear into the locker room one by one, all looking back at him before they go. 

“Let me see.” Abby checks his nose quickly before she finds a piece of tape to put across it to help it keep as straight as possible. It’s not the first time he’s broken his nose, and certainly won’t be his last.

“Go. Get some rest.” Abby smiles patting his shoulder before shooing him out of the court, “I’m glad that you’re back.”

Neil relishes in the silence between him and Andrew as they drive back to Fox Tower. A few droplets of rain scatter on the windshield as Andrew grabs Neil’s bag out of the back and a small backpack. With a couple grunts, they make it up the elevator easily.

“I don’t have my keys.” Neil says as they stand in front of the dorm door.

Andrew opens the door before striding back into the bedroom with Neil following at a much slower pace. He watches as Andrew pulls a set of keys and a phone out of the front pocket of his backpack and pushes them into Neil’s chest. “Keep track of your stuff.”

“I’ll try.” Neil holds the keys and phone close to his chest for a moment before he looks at Andrew, “Yes or no?”

Andrew exhales watching Neil’s face before he barely whispers. “Yes.”

The kiss is gentle, barely ghosting across his lips, being careful not to hit Neil’s nose. Andrew’s hands grip the front of the sweatshirt but don't move beyond that. It feels like a gravitational pull, drawing the both close together easily.

Neil’s duffel and the backpack is kicked under the bunk bed without a care before Andrew starts pushing Neil onto the bottom bunk. They blink at each other before Andrew locks the door to the bedroom and climbs over Neil to the wall.

He watches Andrew as he pulls a blanket over both of them and adjusts the pillows accordingly. His eyes glance over the windows, the door, then another round before they look back at Neil. 

“Stay.” Andrew whispers again.

Neil fights the smile that threatens across his lips as he closes his eyes and falls asleep.


	2. Ignoring the Voices in your Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one asked for Andrew's POV, but here it is!  
> I didn't want to rewrite the whole thing, so it's only part of it.   
> This part is a bit darker because Andrew. Ya know.
> 
> TW: Mentions of blood, swearing, brief mentions of drugs/overdosing, brief mentions of death/suicidal thoughts, past trauma is mentioned in passing. 
> 
> And a gratuitous use of support systems.

It’s like watching a plane crash, slowly tipping lower and lower before it inevitably hits the ground. 

At first, the stress and the nightmares didn’t seem to bother Neil, or at least he didn’t let it show as much. He would go for runs a bit more often to blow off steam and dive into his homework for hours on end. Andrew notices the lack of food Neil is eating, sliding things he can mindlessly chew on closer while he studies. Some days he would nod off for naps while Andrew studies next to him for two or three hours. It doesn’t ease up the dark circles under his eyes, or the vacant stares he finds Neil in. 

But then it gets worse. 

Neil is like a ghost, barely there back and forth between the dorm, the court, and his classes. Andrew sees him less and less, the hours they spend in the bed diminished in hour increments until Neil didn’t come to bed at all. “I’ll sleep at the court.” Neil says with a shrug and a half smile when Andrew asks him, “I’m fine.” 

_ Fine. Fine. Fine. _

“He looks worse today.” Nicky is biting his lip, standing next to Andrew and Kevin before they go out on the court for practice. “I can’t watch him like this anymore. We have to do something. Maybe we should put a sleeping pill in his coffee.”

Andrew’s glare stops Nicky’s thoughts as he holds his hands up. “I got it, no drugs.” Nicky rubs the back of his head, “I’m just saying we have to do something to make him sleep.”

“His game has been off.” Kevin agrees, looking at Neil before back to Nicky, “But he’s been through worse than some nightmares. He’ll get over it and bounce back.” 

“He’s barely functioning Kevin,” Nicky hisses, “He almost passed out at practice this morning, let alone now.”

Almost to his point, they watch as Neil holds on to the locker swaying slightly on his feet. His hand grips the metal before he straightens up again.

“No night practice.” Nicky points at Kevin with his best parental voice, “Get him to sleep.” He points at Andrew with his eyes narrowed.

Kevin doesn’t have a chance to respond before Wymack yells at them to get their asses on the court to start running laps. 

Andrew watches everyone leave the locker room, Neil following out last watching him even out his breaths and catching up to where Dan and Kevin were waiting for him. 

Dan leads the stretches as Neil seems to perk up slightly. 

“Three laps.” Neil says stretching his quads, “Then we’ll run some precision drills.”

“Make it four.” Wymack adds before they start running as a unit. Dan and Neil lead the pace with Aaron and Kevin following, then freshmen follow then the rest of the upperclassman. 

They make it one lap around the court before it all happens at once.

Neil’s pace staggers as Aaron clips the back of his heel. It causes both of them to fall forward onto the ground. In one swift motion, Neil has Aaron on his back with his knee pressed into his chest, his hands wrapped around Aaron’s throat. 

Everyone splits with a gasp, and Nicky’s scream, as they move around them in a wide circle.

Andrew watches for a moment before he realizes Neil isn’t going to let up. The way his arms are flexing forward, the way his hands are clenched, it’s not a warning. 

He’s the first one there, before Matt or Kevin or Wymack could even think to step forward. 

He grabs the back of Neil’s neck before he hears it. The hiss of laughter spilling out from Neil’s lips disjointed and empty. The butcher’s smile is stretched on Neil’s lips as his eyes are intently watching the color slowly leave Aaron’s face and a blue tint slowly forming on his lips.

In that second, Andrew feels a sharp spike of fear and dark thoughts filter into his head. What if Neil’s seeing Andrew’s face underneath his hands, fighting for each breath?

No. No. No.

This is not Neil, Andrew makes the determination quickly. The grip on the back of his skull tightening. No. This person in front of him is Nathaniel Wesninski, the son of the butcher of Baltimore.

Andrew barely registers the knife sliding into his palm and the dull end of the blade pressed against his throat, right under his jaw pressing against his windpipe and pushes back. 

The brief cut off of air seems to break the spell. He hears Neil gasp in a breath as his hands relax from their grip around Aaron’s throat for a miniscule second.

It’s enough for Aaron to gain leverage and kick out from his hands.

Andrew feels Neil’s body freeze, the smile falling from his face as he looks at Aaron underneath him coughing in breaths as he frantically moves away from under Neil’s hold. 

“Lola, it’s-” Neil’s voice is broken and coming out in jagged puffs like he was the one that was being choked.

The thought feels like ice melting down his spine. Neil thinks he’s Lola. Andrew almost throws the knife across the stadium, feeling it like a hot pan against his hand as he jerks it away from Neil’s throat.

“I-” Neil starts to stutter staring at the faces of his teammates with their jaws dropped and horrified looks.

Move. Andrew feels his body shouting at him. So he complies.

“Get the fuck out of here.” Andrew hisses grabbing Neil’s collar and pulling him up off of Aaron completely. Neil doesn’t hesitate for a second and sprints off of the court away from them. Away from Andrew.

Aaron holds up his hands, like he thinks Andrew is going to reach out to touch him. Does Aaron think Andrew is going to hurt him? The bruises of Neil’s hands are forming around his throat. 

But Andrew is frozen.

_ You’re no better than They are. _ His mind hisses.  _ You hurt Neil. You’ll hurt Aaron. You destroy everything you touch. _

The thoughts rip through him tearing at everything he’s built. He’s built to destroy, nothing else. He’s built to ruin everything. Ruin himself. 

And the worst of all, he doesn’t feel a thing. He feels a numbness flood over his limbs and silencing the thoughts in his head until there is nothing. Nothing.

He wants it to hurt.

“What the fuck is happening?” Wymack yells from the other end of the court as he sprints over.

“Looks like the butcher’s boy snapped.” One of the freshmen, Jack, snickers. “Maybe he’s spending too much time with the Monster for his own good.”

_ Monster. Monster. Monster. _

With the knife still in his hands, he takes a step forward.

But there’s a hand on his shoulder, Renee’s, keeps him from moving any further. “Not now.” She whispers into his ear, “Neil needs you first.” He hears her asking Aaron if he needs help and Aaron’s refusal.

It’s funny, Andrew thinks, in the face of disaster everyone splits into groups. The monsters, the upperclassmen, the freshman, all huddled separately to protect their own. The only person breaking the groups is Renee. Where does she truly belong?

“Andrew didn’t do anything.” He hears Nicky say behind him, but his words seem thin and flaky.

_ I didn’t do anything. _ Andrew repeats mentally.  _ That’s the point. _

“Keeping him up at night?” Jack snickers in Andrew’s direction.

Andrew pulls his shoulder out from Renee’s hand and takes a step forward towards Jack. The freshman steps back slightly, now afraid of Andrew with the knife still out in his hand. 

All bark, no bite. 

“Break it up!” Wymack shouts and moves to stand between the three groups. “Boyd, go check the locker room for Neil and see if he’s functioning.” 

Matt moves quickly away from the group, seemingly more excited to leave the tense air. Wymack’s hand points to Andrew, or maybe it’s Aaron, who is still wheezing in breaths behind him. “What the fuck is going on?”

Andrew can’t speak. 

If he speaks, he’ll move, and if he moves he’ll lunge at Jack. Or Wymack. Or anyone. He’ll hurt anyone in his path just to feel something. Anything. 

“Neil’s been out of it for days.” Nicky responds, either he is perceptive enough to know Andrew can’t respond, or if he’s dumb enough to put words in Andrew’s mouth. “I don’t think he meant to do it, right?” He looks at Andrew and Aaron then back at Wymack.

“He said a name right?” Dan comments, “Lola? Is that…” She trails off her eyes darting to the foxes that were there in Baltimore to see the aftermath. The ones who heard as much of the truth as Neil would share to them about who he was and what he’s survived.

“Post traumatic stress disorder?” One of the other freshmen, Kira, who is studying psychology says. They’ve said it before at practices and talked about it in whispers to Abby and Bee. All of the foxes have trauma, none of them are excluded from it.

There’s not enough time for anyone to respond before Matt yells running from the locker room, “He’s not here, coach.” Matt’s winded as he repeats, “He’s gone.” 

Gone.

_ Gone. Gone. Gone. _

The word rattles around in Andrew’s head rapidly blurring everything else into white noise.

Nicky points his fingers defending Neil’s mental health and his actions. He didn’t mean it. He’s been out of it. Barely eating. Barely sleeping. Everyone saw it, why didn’t no one say anything?

Dan’s asking questions. Where would Neil go? Will he turn up later? Should they look for him? 

The freshmen are quiet, except Jack, who’s making jokes. Choking another Minyard. Is it fair he gets both? Everyone has a thing for twins.

Wymack is fielding between them, trying to shut them up and get control of everyone. 

Andrew’s eyes finally meet Kevin’s wide eyes, frozen, staring at Aaron’s throat and the bruises already forming. 

_ Remember Kevin?  _ Andrew wants to hiss, to break everything he’s built around him. He wants to feel anything.  _ Remember when I choked you for answers to where he is? I’ll do it again just to feel something. _

“Leave them to me, go find Neil.” Renee whispers from behind him breaking his trance. There’s a dark edge to her voice, almost like she knows what he’s feeling. “I’ll make sure Aaron’s ok.”

He makes it halfway towards the lockers before he registers Wymack calling after him. “Minyard!” 

His feet still but he doesn’t turn around.

“We’re going look for him.” 

“Do what you want.” Andrew hisses out, his own voice dark and vacant.

He drives along perimeter road knowing that he won’t see Neil. He ran for nine years from his abusers, what’s one more from a man who pretends he’s not one of them? 

How foolish of him to think he could hold onto something, anything, and not have it break or hurt him. 

Neil’s not in the tower. 

Andrew knows it even before he walks up the stairs to the roof to find it empty and vacant and before he goes to the dorm. Everything is too perfect in its place. Nothing is moved or changed. Nothing knocked over in a rush. Maybe Neil didn’t come here at all.

But when Andrew walks back into the bedroom the pieces slot together. 

On his bed, the one he shares with Neil most nights though less as of lately, is Neil’s phone, his massive ring of keys, and his armbands.

A goodbye.

_ Thank you, you were amazing. _

Oh but it’s not the same goodbye, is it?

Neil was taken then. He said goodbye to Andrew who promised to protect him.

No. This wasn’t a goodbye. This was proof that Neil will never come back. 

This time Andrew drove him off. He held a knife to Neil’s throat and told him to go. And Neil, always respecting what Andrew wanted, obliged. Neil ran because Andrew told him to. 

He ran.

Andrew feels his stomach bottom out as a voice crawls from the back of his head.  _ You are just like them. You pressed a knife to his neck. He ran from you. Monster. _

He didn’t need the confirmation, but he looked under the bed to see Neil’s duffel bag, the dirty stretched and torn one, gone. 

Gone.

“Is he here?” He hears Nicky’s voice ask behind him winded, “He isn’t in the basement.”

“He’s gone.” Andrew barely registers the words falling out of his mouth. Is it his mouth?

“What do you mean gone? Like not here, or like,” Nicky stops his hands up by his chest in defense. It’s only then does Andrew realize that he has a knife in his hand pointed at Nicky. 

Nicky’s face drops in horror as he takes small steps backwards. He’s babbling words that Andrew doesn’t have the mental capacity to figure out what they are. 

Control. 

He needs to find control. Something to grab on to. Something that will make him feel that isn’t plunging a knife into Nicky’s chest a dozen times. 

He barely realizes he’s left the dorm before he’s standing on the roof staring down at the ground. The toes of his boots on the edge of the ledge, hanging off of the building.

He feels the fear creep up his spine as his breath picks up. He feels the fear of falling gripping his heart and his chest. He feels the panic and anxiety tearing through his lungs. 

_ It’s a long way down. _ Neil’s voice slithers its way up his spine, a cold reminder of their conversations. Each truth passed back and forth between them feels like it was ages ago, each kiss they shared and hot hands and permissions seems just as far. 

This is what Andrew deserves for giving someone else even a fraction of his self control. 

“Andrew.” It’s Aaron’s voice behind him, garbled and strained. Maybe their lack of self preservation is genetic.

“It’s a bad time for bonding.” Andrew responds mostly at the ground.

“You’re not this dramatic.” Aaron’s footsteps come closer, each step loud against the dirty concrete. There’s nowhere for Andrew to run except for down.

“Says you.”

“Cut the shit. You know him better than any of us.”

“Oh, isn’t that the problem?”

He knows too much about Neil. 

He knows his past. He knows the placement of every scar on him. He knows what he survived. He knows his sharp tongue when he defends things he cares about. He knows how his mouth smirks just to annoy Andrew. He knows what Neil looks like on the edge of pleasure. 

“Don’t pretend like you don’t care about him.” Aaron hisses, apparently not liking the rate in which he was responding. 

“I  _ hate _ him.” Andrew lets the venom slip down his words but something, something must have slipped through. Maybe it’s because he’s standing on a roof, looking down at the ground to feel that gives something away. 

Or maybe he’s underestimated his brother.

Andrew feels a hand grip on the back of his sweatshirt. It wouldn’t really stop him if he jumped. “Don’t fucking lie, you’re in love him.”

Oh, that L-word. The word that haunts every nightmare. The things that he loves always hurts him in the end. He thought he grew out of it, having learned his lesson once, twice, dozens of times. Maybe he really isn’t that smart at all.

“That nasty word is going to get you hurt.” He says through his teeth.

“Are you going to hurt me?” He feels Aaron’s fist tighten on his sweatshirt behind him.

“In ways I wouldn’t be able to explain.” Andrew looks at the drop again before he wonders what it would be like to look down and see your own face dead, staring up at you.

“I swear to fucking god, Andrew.” Aaron’s hand twists further into the material. “If you won’t help because you’re running from your fucking feelings-”

“Don’t pretend to know me!” Andrew snaps back.

“Bullshit.” Aaron yanks back on his sweatshirt, but it doesn’t sway Andrew’s place on the edge of the roof. “If this was about protecting me or anything else, you’d want to find him and kill him. This is something else.”

Andrew looks up at the sky to see the black darkness looking back. When did Aaron become perceptive enough to see through him? Or maybe he’s always had the talent to, but Andrew’s never noticed before. He wants to blame Bee for their closeness but he can’t bring himself to pull that kind of anger. 

“Talk to me.” Aaron says.

Maybe it’s the numbness spreading again around his chest even as he stares down at the ground. Maybe it’s personal growth or Bee’s words constantly vibrating in his head. Maybe it’s a form of self harm and giving up. 

But Andrew talks.

“It’s my fault.” Andrew says not looking away from the horizon “I watched him get worse and worse each day and I didn’t help him. I told him I’d protect him, but I couldn’t even protect him from his fucking self. Then I put a knife to his throat just like they did. I drove him away.”

Andrew lets a smile spread his lips across his teeth, one he hasn’t felt since last year manic and high on meds that he shouldn’t have been on in the first place, “I ruined it. Again.”

“Bullshit.” Aaron’s voice is hard as his hand tightens on Andrew’s sweatshirt again. “Neil is fucking responsible. Everyone downstairs is fucking responsible. They watched and did nothing. All of his fucking so called friends did jack shit. This,” Aaron must have gestured something that Andrew couldn’t see, “is not your fault.”

Andrew leans back slightly, feeling Aaron’s fist tense against his back. “I thought you’d be happy he’s gone.”

“I’m fucking pissed.” Aaron hisses his voice cracking, “Because you’re standing on a fucking roof, and whether you jump or not, he’s not allowed to do that to you. He’s not allowed to fucking walk away from this, from you.” Aaron pulls back on Andrew’s sweatshirt suddenly, making Andrew take a step back from the edge to keep his balance. “I want to find him so I can knock his fucking teeth in.”

Standing away from the edge of the roof with Aaron’s fist still twisted in the back of his sweatshirt makes him feel even for the briefest of seconds. He feels lost. He feels hurt. He feels an overwhelming part of guilt and doubt. He feels fear. 

“Help me find him.” Aaron says, standing in Andrew’s line of sight. The bruises around his throat are dark and shadowed.

Aaron is smarter than Andrew ever gave him credit for. 

Andrew would never find Neil for himself. He wouldn’t claim that he owned Neil’s presence or even wanted him around. He would rather feel the pain in his chest than claim that he let someone in to cause it.

But for Aaron, Andrew can convince himself to do it.

“He’s not in Palmetto. He wouldn’t stay here.” Andrew blinks, finding the answer easy among his memories, “West. It’s easier to hitchhike going west.”

“And if he didn’t hitchhike?” Aaron asks.

There’s a chance, a thread of hope tingling in the back of Andrew’s mind.

He calls every hospital, bus station, airport, taxi service, road stop, every place he can think of that Neil has told him he used. He uses every name and gives them a description that could only be rivaled by a photograph.

But nothing. 

No one has seen him. They will look out for him, they promise, and give him a call if they know anything. They won’t, Andrew knows.

Two hours pass, then three, and nothing. A few of the freshmen float into the room to tell Dan that they haven’t found him and that they are going back to their dorms for the night and they’ll look again in the morning. 

“Thank you.” Dan smiles at them, “I really appreciate it.”

It’s just the upperclassman left, all eight of them in a semi-circle in the girls room. 

“Has anyone heard from him?” Dan asks and only gets head shakes in response. She crosses her arms and straightens her back to look Kevin in the eyes. “Kevin, I need you to tell me the truth, do you think he was taken?”

“Oh my god.” Nicky puts a hand on his chest before anyone can respond, “What if someone took him again? Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“He’s Moriyama’s property.” Kevin snaps his fingers to break Nicky’s spell, “Unless someone wants to start a war, no one would have taken him.”

“He’s gotten maybe three hours of sleep in the last week, how far could he have gone?” Allison looks around, “Maybe he’s hiding out somewhere closeby.”

Matt paces, “I can’t just sit here again and wait, what if he’s hurt?” 

This sparks another bout of panicked yelling from Nicky while Kevin argues that, “No, He’s survived worse, Neil is fine.” 

_ Fine. Fine. Fine.  _

Andrew is beginning to hate that word. Andrew cracks his jaw before he looks at Renee.

She just nods at him, like she knows his thoughts better than he does. And to be fair, she probably does. 

“I’m going to look for him.” Andrew says to her and waits for her to nod in response.

“Where are you going?” Dan asks before he could take a step out of the room, “If you know where he is-”

“I don’t.” Andrew hisses back, interrupting her. Something in his tone must have given away something because no one stops him as he leaves the room. He throws some clothes into a backpack, Neil’s things in the front pocket, and walks with his car keys in his hands. 

He stops when he sees Aaron with a backpack waiting by the elevator. Kevin and Nicky are standing close by, Kevin stoic and still while Nicky vibrates on his feet.

“I don’t need fucking supervision.” Andrew rolls his eyes. 

“Bullshit.” Aaron hisses keeping up with Andrew as he walks down the stairs. “Let us fucking help you.”

Aaron is quick enough to be inside the car before Andrew could lock him out. “Do you have a plan?” Aaron asks as Nicky and Kevin slide into the back, “Or are you going to drive west and hope we come across him?”

Andrew doesn’t respond as he revs the engine and peels out of the parking lot.

Nothing.

They drive through every back street, along every highway entrance, and every small miniscule town within a hundred mile radius heading west. 

Andrew calls places again and asks for an update but nothing, no one has seen him. He’s gone.

If Andrew was alone, he might be able to convince himself that Neil wasn’t even real to begin with. If he was alone, nothing would stop him from turning the car into oncoming traffic just to see if it would actually hurt.

But Nicky’s anxious yammering for most of the drive before he fell asleep, and Aaron’s short comments from the passenger's seat are enough to keep him at least focused.

“It’s seven in the morning.” Nicky says in the back seat haven woken up a few minutes ago when the sun started to rise “We’re out by Columbia. Let’s check the house. He has a key for it.”

He didn’t tell them Neil doesn’t have his keys.

“He’d know that no one was there, maybe he’d squat there.” Kevin chimes in from the back. The first helpful thing that he’s said within hours.

Doubtful. Andrew adds mentally. 

The house is empty, even after Nicky checks all the rooms twice. “I’m going to make a pot of coffee and then we’ll get back out on the road.” Nicky says, mumbling through the house.

Andrew looks at the house almost imagining Neil walking out from the bedrooms like he had all summer with a yawn and bed head wearing one of Andrew’s shirts.  _ Staring. _

He can’t do this.

He turns around on the porch and sits, working through his pack of cigarettes. He lets one of them burn without taking a breath, letting the smoke drift out into the rain that had started pouring a few hours ago.

“Are we going?” Aaron asks from the doorway leaning against the frame. 

“No.” Andrew says, “There’s no use driving aimlessly.”

They watch from the porch as a few droplets splatter to the ground. “What if we can’t find him?” Aaron asks looking out at the raindrops, “Are you going to…” He trails off.

Andrew blinks, “No.”

“Don’t be offended if I say I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you want.” Andrew sighs, lighting another cigarette and taking a few puffs from it to calm his nerves before he watches it burn.

It’s been twelve hours since Neil ran. He could be anywhere in the world by now. He could be any different name that Andrew will never be able to find again. He drops the cigarette down under his boot and crushed it. 

Fuck.

“I want your knives.” 

Andrew looks over at Aaron, not looking at him with no expression on his face. Andrew feels charitable and pulls off his armbands from under his sweatshirt sleeves before he hands them over to Aaron. “I’ll need those back.”

“Call it insurance for leaving you alone.” 

And Aaron does that. He ducks back inside and leaves Andrew out on the porch. He must tell Nicky and Kevin to fuck off becuase they don’t come out to check on him.

He runs his hands down his face before he leans on his knees before he pulls a knife he’s hidden out of his hoodie pocket. It’s a white switchblade with a black blade, Neil’s favorite blade, as he’s told Andrew a few times. 

He flips it around in his hands as he watches it rain. He’s outside for an hour, maybe two, maybe three, he loses track of time. The brief brightness of dawn is gone replaced by cold rain clouds. 

He closes his eyes for a second before he picks himself up to head inside when he sees it. A block up the street, a figure hobbling down the sidewalk. He rubs his eyes watching the person come into focus a bit further

The unmistakable mop of hair, damp and wet, with the right frame and build. That hoodie. Those shoes.

“Neil.” He watches Neil stop, almost like he could have heard Andrew, swaying violently side to side. 

He moves slowly, each step he takes closer is careful not to scare Neil like he’s a stray cat. As Andrew get’s closer he sees the blood down his face and a bruise spreading Neil’s now much more crooked nose. 

Andrew stops in his tracks, Neil apparently not having seen him yet, seeing the Butcher’s smile spreading on Neil’s face. He takes a few steps to the side, slowly moved behind Neil seemingly unnoticed. 

It is wrong. 

Neil would never let anyone move around him so easily without him knowing, let alone Nathaniel Wesninski. 

He pulls his knife forward and presses the point into the small of Neil’s back. 

“Don’t move.” Andrew says, feeling the anger spike in his voice. Andrew sees his body wince and shutter by itself. 

“I didn’t mean to.” Neil laughs but it turns into a cough as he spits dried blood onto the sidewalk. He sees Neil sway, his arm trying to move but hanging down almost dead weight at his sides. “But I’m here, I think.” 

He sounds wrong. Exhausted and tired, but like he is talking from somewhere else. Andrew narrows his eyes as Neil mumbles a few words that he can’t make out past the rain.

“Or fate.” Neil says much louder. “I guess dying by your hands is better than laying nameless and rotten on the side of the road.” 

No.

Is that why Neil came back to him? For Andrew to kill him? 

He immediately pulls the knife away from Neil and stuffs it back into his pocket. He takes a few steps around him with his hands raised.

This close, he can see the dark circles under his closed eyes and the bruises stretching across his face. He looks ragged and tired, his bag hanging off of his shoulder pulling his body from one side to the other. 

But something is wrong.

The way he is swaying, the smile on his face, the twitching of his hands reminds him of Aaron at his worst, high as fuck in Tilda’s house. It reminds him of when he forced Neil to take cracker dust.

Neil took something. Or someone drugged him. Did someone hurt him? His eyes scan the rest of him, but he can’t tell without looking at his eyes.

“Neil, open your eyes.” Andrew’s voice is clear and firm.

Andrew watches Neil hesitate, before his eyes slid open towards the ground. He has to know that Andrew wouldn’t be mad, all their time together he has to know. One slip up doesn’t ruin progress. Fuck, Neil even told him that.

“Look at me.” He growls wanting to reach out and grab him.

Neil keeps his eyes on the ground and whispers. “I can’t. If I do, you’ll disappear.”

_ Disappear. _ Andrew reaches out to grab the neck of Neil’s sweatshirt. He wants to shake him and yell at him. He’s not going to leave because Neil slipped up and ran. He’s not going to leave if Neil took something or if someone hurt him.

Andrew hears words of possession roll around in his head as he tightens his fists around the fabric.

“No, I-” Neil stops staring at Andrew’s hand and freezes like he’s been lost there. “I love your hands.” Neil whispers. 

This is wrong. 

He pulls on the hood to force Neil to look up at him but it throws him off balance. Neil falls forward against Andrew’s hands slamming his knees into the ground, his feet folded under him. He’s almost limp for a moment before he pulls himself away from Andrew’s hands.

“Abram.” Andrew hisses out between his lips trying to get Neil’s attention. “Look at me.” 

He watches Neil’s head bobble up to finally look at him. His eyes are red, with his pupils blown a bit wider, but the icy blue irises still there. 

He has to have taken something Andrew thinks as he watches Neil’s eyes unfocus on him and glaze over. Andrew bares his teeth looking at Neil, accusatory words stuck on his tongue.

Neil’s eyebrows pinch before he says, “I’m sorry.”

The words float into Andrew’s mind like a gunshot. He’s back in Baltimore for a second, looking at Neil on the motel room carpet apologizing for being taken and causing Andrew to lose control. 

His fist pulls back, but like before.

But Neil flinches.

Andrew freezes. No. No. No. He’s not going to be like them. He’s not going to be a thing that Neil is afraid of. He’s not. The other words are still on his tongue, but frozen.

The only thing that spills out is, “I hate you,” as he holds the fabric tighter.

“I know.” Neil whispers like he does know.

He doesn’t. Andrew’s psyche reminds him, causing his emotions to run. He thinks you hate him. He thinks that you don’t care about him. He believes every lie you’ve ever told him. 

But does he?

_ Don’t lie to a liar. _

Andrew opens his mouth to say something, anything else but he watches a glaze fall over Neil’s eyes distance and faded.

“No. No. I’m not ready yet.” Neil’s voice is stretched and panicked.

He sees Neil’s arms twitch like they are trying to lift towards him. Andrew’s eyes dart around looking for other wounds, is he losing blood? No blood, he’s not stabbed, at least not apparently.

He has to have taken something. 

“Neil.” He watches Neil sway to the side before Andrew reaches out and grabs onto his shoulder, holding him upright. His body is shaking, almost like shivering as he stares past Andrew. “We have to get to the house, come on.” But the words don’t seem to register on Neil’s face as he stays there.

Neil’s mouth opens as his eyes move back to Andrew. “I just wanted to see you before I died.” Neil’s eyes focus on Andrew’s for a moment, “I thought I could let you go.”

“You’re not going to die.” Andrew almost yells at him, trying to grab a better hold of Neil. Andrew darts back at him to see the house a block away. 

“I don’t think I have a choice anymore.” A sharp pointed laughter slips out of Neil’s mouth as he stares past Andrew over his shoulder. 

“Neil.” Andrew feels the panic clawing its way up his chest leaving deep welts that forces the words out of his mouth, “What did you take?” Andrew shakes him a bit trying to get his attention. 

“What was it? How much? Neil!” He feels the panic seizing his chest as Neil’s head loses the tension and wobbles back and forth. “I can help you. Neil, let me help you.” 

Everything seems to stop as Neil’s lips spread into a smile, the butcher’s smile, as he stares unfocused behind him. “You’re going to have to kill me before I turn into him.” Neil slurs as his eyes flutter closed. Neil’s mouth slips open just slightly as the word falls out of his mouth, “Please.”

The word causes the world to stop for a second. Andrew could feel his lips trembling from the after effects of hearing it. His mind is spinning violently each millisecond pounding nails through his skull.

“No!” Andrew growls, shaking him. “Open your eyes.” He balances Neil with one arm as he pats his face with the other. Neil’s body is limp and weak as it falls back on Andrew’s arms.

His hand scrambles up to press into Neil’s neck to find the pulse point. Andrew’s heart is racing too fast for him to find his pulse so he presses his head close to Neil’s mouth. He waits a second feeling his own breath stop before he can feel Neil’s shallow wheezy breaths.

He’s alive.

He’s not dead. 

“Stay with me.” Andrew whispers, “Stay.”

He grabs under Neil’s back easily to pull him up into his arms slinging Neil’s dirty duffel bag over his shoulder.

He’s carried Neil before, a few times off the court after a late night practice, and a couple times from the couch to their dorm room after Neil fell asleep. And once, Andrew’s mind supplies him, when they had the house to themselves in the summer, that had a much different ending.

But now, carrying him the block back to the house makes him feel sick. Neil’s too still, too quiet. He’s not fidgeting, or mumbling, or running his hands in Andrew’s hair. 

He barely makes it onto the front porch before he’s yelling, “Aaron!” 

Aaron appears almost immediately with his eyes blown wide and his mouth gaping open. “Is that Neil?” He asks before he holds the door open for Andrew to bring him in. “Where was he?”

“I think he took something. He was out of it and twitching. He was coughing blood, I think, and then he passed out.” Andrew blinks a realization coming over him, “He might be overdosing.”

“It doesn’t sound like Josten.” Aaron reaches to grab Neil, but Andrew steps back instinctively. “Now is not the fucking time for your bullshit. Your choices are to have him fucking die in your arms, let me see him, or take him to the fucking hospital.” 

“He’s not going to die.” Andrew hisses. “You’re not going to let him.”

“I can’t pump the fucking drugs out of his body.” Aaron throws his hands up, “I volunteered at a fucking clinic for a summer, I’m not a fucking expert.” 

“I can’t let him die!” Andrew yells, “Not like this!”

Not with Neil in his arms. Not when Andrew could have done something, anything else, but no. He’s wasting time fighting with his brother. If it’s an overdose they might have minutes to do something. 

“Fine.” Aaron says, his eyes reading intently into Andrew’s,“Take him to the bedroom and lay him down so I can see him better.”

Andrew follows his brother’s direction as he hears Aaron yelling behind him, “Kevin! Nicky!”

He turns down the hallway nearly running into Kevin.

“Fuck is that Neil?” Kevin gasps. 

“Get the first aid kit.” Aaron yells at him, “Under the sink in the bathroom and get my bag from the car. I should have stuff from the clinic in there.” He pauses not hearing footsteps, “Now Kevin.”

Kevin moves immediately past them almost running into Nicky who had gasps with his hands on his mouth. 

“Nicky, get water and tell the team that we found him.” Aaron orders behind him. Nicky is already crying but he does what Aaron says.

“Keep his head elevated, his nose looks broken and he might have a concussion.” Aaron says before he darts into the bathroom. 

Andrew lays Neil down on the bed propping his head up gently with some pillows. He throws Neil’s bag in the corner of the room, the furthest possible point away from him before he steps closer to Neil.

He’s too still, but Andrew can see he’s breathing.

Aaron comes in with a wet rag and steps closer, “Here, clean off his face, then help me get his sweatshirt off.” Aaron says, “I want to see his chest. Coughing blood isn’t a good sign.”

“No.”

Aaron throws his hands up, “For fuck’s sake, he might have a brain bleed or a pierced lung or a fucking stab wound.”

Andrew holds out his hand between Aaron and Neil, “Nothing below his clothes.”

“Andrew.” Aaron warns. 

“If he was stabbed he’d be bleeding through them.” Andrew hisses, “The only blood is on his face and his knees.”

The door swings open and Kevin steps in with the bags around his shoulders and the glass of water in his hands. Kevin stays quiet as he leans against the door, frozen, like he can’t move looking at Neil lying prone on the bed.

“Fine.” Aaron says, as he starts digging through his bag before he finds a stethoscope and holds it up in front of Andrew. “I’ll do what I can, but if it’s between keeping his privacy or his fucking life, you know which one I’m going to pick.” Aaron steps closer, “I’m your best chance right now. Let me help him.”

Andrew nods and starts to clean Neil’s face gently as Aaron times Neil’s pulse.

Aaron makes a humming noise before he moves down to press the stethoscope to the front of Neil’s chest, then a few spots further down. 

He takes Neil’s hand and pinches the skin on the back of it, lifting it before letting it go. The skin almost seems to stick standing up for a moment as it stretches back down. Aaron hums before he turns back to his back and pulls out a small flashlight out of his bag.

“I’m going to check his eyes.” Aaron waits for Andrew to nod before he pulls back Neil’s eyelid and flashes the light in them. He runs his hand down Neil’s nose, pushing the broken bone into a straighter position as he reaches back to touch the back of Neil’s hair.

Aaron is quiet for a moment while Andrew retreats to the back corner of the room to throw the now bloodied rag onto the pile of dirty laundry. Andrew kicks his heels into Neil’s bag, cursing him for running in the first place.

Aaron is quiet looking at Neil biting his lips slightly.

“Speak.” Andrew barks at him.

Aaron jumps and clears his throat slightly.

“His pupils are dialating at a normal rate. He’s breathing steadily. His lungs sound fine. No liquid or punctures, the blood was mostly likely runoff from his nose.” Aaron narrates with a clinical approach. “He’s not overdosing.”

“His pulse is fine. I checked it twice. I’d say at least a concussion from the bruising on the back of his head. He’s cold, but not near hypothermia. He’s exhausted and dehydrated. His shoes look like shit and he smells like it. I bet he walked most of the way.” Aaron says back on his heels.

“The math doesn’t work out.” Kevin shakes his head. “He couldn’t have walked here, it would have taken days to cover that distance.”

“Did he take something?” Andrew asks, his voice low and even, the control slowly coming back to him.

“I can’t tell if he took something.” Aaron shakes his head.

Andrew opens his mouth to say something else when he sees Neil’s eyes open. A bright icy blue that Andrew would never be able to match again. Neil. Andrew’s brain hyper focuses chanting Neil’s name over, and over, and over again. 

He’s alive. He’s here. 

He came back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!


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